How To Be Zyaada

resilient

rɪˈzɪlɪənt

adjective

1.

(of a substance or object) able to recoil or spring back into shape after bending, stretching, or being compressed.

Dear Upa,

Life really sucks sometimes. 

I’m definitely not the most optimistic person out there and I’m definitely not the strongest, but I do try my best to not be sad about things. I mean, it’s not like I do it consciously, I just automatically start laughing at times when a normal person would cry, so I guess I’m physically incapable of being sad all the time. In fact, the only indication the people around me have when I’m not happy is that I’m not smiling, that’s how they know something’s up, because I’m kinda always smiling. It’s a little creepy when I come to think of it, actually.

But despite my socially unacceptable creepy behavior of smiling all the time, I have to agree that sometimes, no matter how you look at the situation, life sucks. So I try to tell myself to not be sad. 

The first thing I usually end up doing is telling myself how so many people around me have it way worse than I do, and how much stronger they are, but recently it’s stopped working. I mean, how is the fact that other people are even sadder than I am supposed to make me happy at all? I want my friends to be happy, I don’t want them to go through the sort of crap they go through, so how is the fact that they’re going through stuff worse than I am supposed to make me feel better? 

I try talking to friends about it, but then I just feel like a burden and that makes me sadder. Which is stupid and not fair, I know, but I really can’t help it. So my rants are limited to study-related panic attacks which I know are extremely annoying for you guys to deal with, but I mean being friends with me is worth it so it’s okay, I guess.

So then I indulge in something that takes my mind off sadness completely, (i.e. BTS) and that almost always works and I become incredibly happy, but once I stop doing BTS-related things I start becoming sad again.

And it sucks, being sad sucks. Why would I chose to be sad if I could just be happy? Emotions are dumb. Everything is dumb. I am dumb.

So then my last strategy is to simply refuse to be sad. Being sad is not an option. It’s a waste of precious time I could spend laughing over memes. 

As of one of our best friends (Aloo) had said when I had told her that a 98% cut-off is “thoda zyaada only”- “it is, but you’re more zyaada”. 

(“It’s a bit too much”. “It is, but so are you.”)

(I know, I’m totally a better translator than bing)

So, basically, I refuse to be sad, and I urge you to be happy, too. I will bend, but I will not break.

I will be resilient.

Bye for now,

Aditi.

how to deal with deadlines

dear aditi,
i am really bad with deadlines. And i mean really bad. i usually finish my work after the deadline and somehow sweet talk my way into submissions. it's a process I seem to have become quite good at in college.
but what i have yet to learn is maybe actually trying to complete the project before the deadline, trying to meet it. maybe, that could be a small possibility.
the other day i was completing kscope work at home, and I was frantically working that my home. my mom asked me why they gave so much work, and when I told her they gave me 2 weeks to complete it and I just didn't do it she gave me this disappointed look. not that she is much better than me, so god knows why she is like this.
and now i have more project deadlines which i fail to submit on time but thankfully the teachers don't hate me that much so i get a bit more time.
but i realise i am a designer, and for what i want to do in my life deadlines will always be there for me, and most designers don't work by the hour but rather work by how much shit they get done, and if i can't get shit done on time well it will be bad
so i'm going to try working on that now and hopefully it'll work out
on time
love,
upa. 

How To Deal With Kids(?)

Dear Upa,

                 My entire existence thus far has been a lie.

I thought I didn’t like children. Not not like, I mean, I didn’t know what to do with them.

A plant? I can probably handle it. A rock? No problem. A puppy? YES PLEASE.

But a baby? What do you do with it? Where do you put it? 

On top of that, they’re ridiculously noisy and anyone who says a screaming baby is cute is either high on drugs or lying. And children tell you if they don’t like you, they don’t even have the decency to lie, and I can’t deal with people not liking me, so I can’t deal with kids.

So, basically, I guess I never really hated kids, even the super annoying ones that run around and scream, they just made me really uncomfortable.

That was, until my dad called guests over. AND THEY BROUGHT THEIR CHILDREN.

I was horrified. I don’t know what they were expecting when they brought their children, to be honest. What were they supposed to do between dads getting drunk and moms discussing maids? Get bored, that’s what. 

And my dad knew that, I saw it in his eyes, mingled with a sheepish, apologetic look as he shuffled three children into my room as I was sitting in front of my economics textbook pretending to study.

There was nothing he could do, he was stuck. But not nearly as stuck as I was.

There were three kids, an eighth grade boy who was taller than 6ft so like wot and two girls, who were sisters, in seventh and second grade. A second grader was in my room and I was supposed to entertain her for 3 hours.

My world came crumbling down around me. It would be bad enough if they were my age, but these were children. I panicked.

And I don’t know if it was the panic, or the relief that no one started crying (except me, but that was internal) or the fact that we actually managed to talk for 3 whole hours, but I didn’t have the worst time in the world. It was… it was fun.

The children were actually pretty cool. The elder kids loved Harry Potter and Percy Jackson, which made things a whole lot easier. They also loved dogs, and they told me about the gossip in their classes which I found cute. I got them food and we ate Bertie Botts Every Flavoured Beans and laughed at each other when someone ate bad ones. I only got Candy Floss, Cherry, Banana, Tooti Frooti and Marshmallow, so my luck was great. The boy tried all the yucky ones and the little shit even fed me a vomit flavour, and I will never trust him again. They were also hilarious, I died laughing on several occasions, we played games and they're honestly adorable. I love cute people. Especially the small one. She told me that a boy told her he loved her and I laughed and asked what she replied, and she said she wanted to take her sister’s tennis racquet and beat him up. She’s seven. 

I poked her cheek several times and wrapped her in a blanket and wiped her face when rasmalai dribbled down it, and it was only when I was washing my hands in the sink that I looked at myself in the mirror and wondered what I had become.

And it wasn’t one-sided. My dad came in at one point and asked the kids, “Is Aditi didi taking good care of you?”, and they all yelled “YES!!!” loudly, and you didn’t hear it from me, but I think my heart swelled with happiness.

I think I’m a child myself and I find kids way more relatable than I find most people my age. 

I think, miraculously, in the 3 hours full of fries that got eaten up by 12 year olds before I could get my hands on them and a seven year old doing ballet in the middle of my room and a lot of toilet related jokes, I realised that I don’t hate kids, and kids don’t hate me.

My entire existence thus far has been a lie, and I think I don’t really mind.

Bye for now, 

Aditi.